Her Haven
by Slytherin.SisterH
Summary: An intimate window to the mind of one of the most beautiful, most reserved, most envied woman in Wizarding Britain during the later half of the war. Slightly AU at the end (Dramione), otherwise, HBP and DH compliant. Oneshot. Written For Prompt.


**A/N: Ok, guys. So this is actually my first fic, and it's pretty short, even for a oneshot. It was inspired by a prompt from with the monsters over in The Slytherin Corner Forum. The quote is taken from the prompt. Constructive criticism and comments are always welcome. Also, forewarning, this has not been Beta'd by anyone but me, and it's the wee hours now, so I may have missed some things. Please let me know!- Ryn**

 **Anything familiar belongs to our dear JKR, and not to me.**

"I think how hope may be the thing that pulls you forward, keeps you going, but that it's dangerous, too, that it's painful and risky, that it's making a dare to the world and when has the world ever let us win a dare?" (from The Knife of Never Letting Go, by Patrick Ness)

23 _January 1996_

The light caught the curve of her hair as the wind tugged it along, teasing tangles into the whipping ends. The little balcony off the second story of Malfoy Manor's library was Narcissa's only sanctuary these days. The hideous creature that her husband served no longer resembled the charismatic young man who had captured his adulation.

Tom Riddle had been powerful, handsome, with a magnetic presence that drew all the attention in the room, and Bellatrix had worshiped him. The cold… thing that was stealing the life from her family was no longer that man. Oh, to be sure, he was extremely powerful and he still possessed that same magnetic quality, but now it was horror and morbid curiosity that drew the eye to his deformed figure. And Bellatrix was more than mad enough to prefer the Dark Lord to her own husband. Ah, well. She never did have any taste.

 _8 February 1996_

The sound of screams filtered up from the dungeons to Narcissa's little balcony, carrying with them almost tangible pain and terror, and Narcissa winced. Only three people could draw those sounds- her dear deranged sister, the Dark Lord himself, and that wolf, Greyback, who was out "on assignment." Narcissa was quite sure she didn't want to know the details of that assignment. Her life had changed since the Dark Lord had forced the "honor" of his presence upon her home.

Narcissa had always been the most delicate of the Black sisters, but since the rise of the Dark Lord, the Slytherin ice in her blood had changed to iron. No matter what his ideals, no matter his reasons, the Dark Lord was tearing her family apart and Lucius was helping him do it. It was done then. Narcissa's decision was sealed. She would not allow it. She could not. Her loyalty was bound not to the madman in her home or the husband she barely recognized but to Draco. He was her world, now.

"Just try it," she whispered, tossing her challenge to the icy wind. "If you harm my Draco, I will take you down myself." There was steel and venom in her quiet voice, the protective passion of a mother's unshakable devotion. "I dare you…"

 _1 August 1996_

Narcissa gripped the black railing of her tiny peace, her one last haven, her little balcony, sagging against it as her iron spine gave way. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she could feel her own pulse in her throat as her mind reeled. He had taken him. The Dark Lord had taken her son and injured him, laid claim to him, branded him like chattel in her home. He should have been protected here, but she had failed him. Her son! Her only, precious son! A single, strangled whimper fought its way free of a throat that had been closed to all inward emotions for decades.

Narcissa allowed herself one final, brief moment of all-encompassing grief and then straightened with a deep breath and quiet exhalation. Now, more than ever, she had to be strong. For Draco. She was not a marked Death Eater. _Like my son._ Her own voice sounded inside her head with an accompanying pang of sorrow. The Dark Lord would have no cause to enter her mind, and she knew enough Occlumency that even He would not see her bitter and traitorous thoughts in her eyes as she welcomed Him to dinner. She would take down the bastard who had caused her boy pain.

 _This I vow._

 _2 May 1998_

 _He cannot be dead! I need him._ Searing panic stuttered along Narcissa's nerve endings as she approached the still body on the forest floor. The last years had been painful to watch, and every day was a trial, but finally and end had been in sight… and now, her hope was lying in a still, crumpled pile surrounded by a mass of sticks and dirt. It couldn't end this way. The Boy Who Lived, dead? Her son, enslaved for life and unavenged? Ever so slowly, she crouched beside the motionless form of the Potter boy. As she moved to close his eyes, which would surely have been open at the moment of the spell's impact, her hand wavered almost unnoticeably as she realized that they were already closed. Her heart stopped for a beat as she pulled one eyelid back, and quickly dropped her fingers down under his shirt, pressing her hand against his ribcage to feel for a pulse.

 _Oh, Sweet Circe, he's alive!_

Narcissa's heart thumped in tandem, and she pressed harder, to be sure. _Yes!_ The pulse was there, strong and fast, beating against the palm of her hand. Leaning low so her hair could shield his face, she breathed the most important question:

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?"

Impossibly, wonderfully, the boy breathed back the quietest, "Yes."

Her hand spasmed as she fought to control a shudder of relief, and her nails dug slightly into the boy's chest. Then she sat up, turned and called to the crowd of Death Eaters and their Lord, "He is dead!"

She would see her son again.

Epilogue /After the War…

 _16 June 2007_

Narcissa stood on her little balcony and remembered as the warm June breeze teased her black hair. She'd stopped dying it after the War. It was a daily ritual for her now, to stand and pay homage to the little piece of wood and sky that had granted her comfort, a reminder of the things she counted precious in life.

The last nine years had not been easy on the Malfoy's. Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco were packed into Ministry holding cells by members of the Order until a trial could be held. It was a terrible six weeks, and they were among some of the first to be tried. It had taken time to reestablish some measure of order in the Ministry and to root out threads of Pureblood supremacists and sympathizers, an endeavor greatly aided by Narcissa's willing gift of Veritaserum-confirmed information. That action had reduced her sentence of two years in Azkaban to one year, and she was released on probationary house arrest just four months after her internment.

Draco had not been so lucky, but due to his unfortunate parentage and his age at the time of the Marking, he was sentenced to eight years in Azkaban. Narcissa constantly petitioned for parole hearings, which eventually resulted in Draco's monitored, probationary release. Though the Dementors had been removed from Azkaban under Kingsley Shacklebolt during his probationary Ministerial position, Narcissa's thrice weekly visits likely kept Draco sane for the four years, seven months, and fifteen days he spent imprisoned. They became inseparable.

Lucius was sentenced to several lifetimes in Azkaban for the numerous crimes committed both before and after the return of the Dark Lord, for harboring murderers and villains, and for aiding in the coercion of a minor toward the Dark Arts. A very small part of her heart would always love Lucius for the man he could have been, and teenager she had known, but she would never have been able to look him in the eyes without hating the man he had become. He had betrayed their family, and repeatedly put Draco's life in danger. That was unforgivable.

Draco stepped on to the balcony behind her, snapping Narcissa out of her own head.

"Mother? It's time. Hermione will be waiting for us. I'd rather not leave her alone in this house longer than I must. Especially today."

Though Hermione's official job at the ministry dealt with magical creatures, she was constantly in and out of the Ministries Laws and Regulations office while working on her cases. She saw Narcissa frequently while Draco was in Azkaban, and had eventually asked Narcissa to have dinner with her in her flat. Narcissa had been shunned by most of Wizarding society after the war and was wary of Hermione's offer, thinking that perhaps it was a scheme for revenge, but had accepted nonetheless. One simply does not spurn the single greatest heroine of the Wizarding World.

Though the dinner began awkwardly, Narcissa and Hermione soon discovered that they quite like one another, and in the privacy of the flat, they could speak unreservedly for hours on end. Dinner at Hermione's had thus become a weekly tradition that continued to grow, and Narcissa had not missed a single one in five years. After Draco was released, it took a few weeks before Hermione asked Narcissa to bring him along, and though the first month was fraught with heated arguments, they too had become very close friends. Draco and Hermione had started seeing one another eighteen months after that first dinner. Narcissa was now soon to be a very happy Mother-in-Law.

Today was the day that Hermione Granger would be going back to the room where Bellatrix had tortured her on their floor. Although Narcissa had gutted and remodeled the entire Manor after the War, Hermione had never dared venture past the gardens or the library. Hermione had confided to Narcissa that the scars she had received there bothered her, and she would often have nightmares. Draco could attest to the severity of the night terrors although they came less freqently now. The first night he had witnessed one, Narcissa had found him on her balcony the next morning, hunched over and shaking. He was haunted by the memory of looking down on Hermione, seeing her in agony, and doing nothing. Both were broken badly by the trauma of their youth, but both were strong and resilient, and Narcissa was more than proud of the way they were healing each other, and she had great hope for their future. Sending a breath of thanks to the sky, Narcissa turned gracefully and took Draco's arm, remembering a favorite phrase of her sister Andromeda, with who she had reconciled after her release.

"Lead the way, my little love. Let us see what today holds in store."


End file.
